


Romance Research

by ThetaSigma



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sherlock's Trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 04:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/ThetaSigma
Summary: Sherlock knows he's not that great at traditional romance. Luckily, he was born in the time of the internet. Surely it has some ideas on what to do.So begins his attempt to be the romantic partner John Watson surely wants.





	Romance Research

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tobeconspicuous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconspicuous/gifts).



> Tobeconspicuous needed schmoop last night. I provided schmoop.

Sherlock waited with baited breath as John clattered down the seventeen steps to the front door (after, of course, kissing Sherlock goodbye). John would be gone at least nine hours – more if the tube was unreliable again on the way home. Slightly less if his last patient failed to show.

Eight and a half then.

Definitely enough time for Sherlock to do his research.

Despite dating for – Sherlock checked his watch – 2 weeks, 4 days, 7 hours, 23 minutes, and 47 seconds (48, 49, 50), Sherlock was unaccountably nervous.

John _seemed_ happy. Absolutely. Giddy, even. Whistling, smiling randomly, happy to bestow kisses and touches – innocent and not – at any opportunity, indulgent (to the point where Sherlock had managed to stow not only a liver but also a half-decayed thumb in the fridge without starting a row).

But Sherlock was well aware he had never been in a relationship before. And John Watson was, at heart, a _romantic_. Sherlock had no idea where to start.

Luckily, he was born in the time of the internet. Surely he could learn.

He cracked his knuckles and set up three laptops on the coffee table. He debated a fourth, but deemed it unnecessary. Surely three were enough for now. He brought up Google on all three, typed ‘love ideas’ into one, ‘romantic ideas’ into another, and ‘romance’ into the third. He would go from there.

He yanked a notepad towards himself to make notes.

The first idea he came across he liked immediately. _“Give your lover a dozen roses – with a twist! Give eleven red roses and one white one, then attach a note that says ‘In every bunch, there’s one that stands out – and you are that one.’”_ Well, that neatly summed up how Sherlock felt about John. He grabbed his mobile and made the florist’s order, paying extra to have it delivered within the morning.

He kept reading. _“Get your partner a wristwatch. Engrave it with ‘I’ll always have time for you’”_. Hmm. Sherlock considered that. Not a bad idea, to be honest, a bit… sappy, but John would like it. Maybe. He marked the idea down for a birthday or Christmas or… shudder, Valentine’s Day gift. Ugh, _puns_ , though. He _hated_ puns, Sherlock thought they were the lowest form of humor. Still, John. He must do it for John.

 _“Write your partner a love letter or poem on one sheet of paper. Glue it to thin cardboard, cut it up into puzzle-shaped pieces, then mail all the pieces. Or, mail one puzzle piece per day!”_ Sherlock cast about for cardboard, coming up with a stiff-ish piece of paper. Needs must, he figured.

Then he paused. Ah. Right. He was looking up _how to be romantic_ , how was he supposed to know what to write? He tapped his pen against his lips. Scratch that, once he had a handle on this romance thing, he’d come back to this.

 _“Remove all the paper strips (that say “Kisses” on them) from a couple hundred Hershey’s Kisses. Fill a jewelry box with them. Wrap ’em up and present them to your partner. Write a certificate explaining that the slips are coupons redeemable for one kiss each.”_ Sherlock wrinkled his nose. That was tedious. Removing a couple hundred candy wrappers? What a preposterous idea! Besides, John hardly needed incentive to kiss him, they kissed all the time. (They did other things all the time, too. Sex was _not_ what Sherlock needed assistance with here).

 _“Kidnap her! Blindfold her. Drive her around town until she’s thoroughly lost. Then reveal your destination: Her favorite restaurant, or maybe a romantic inn.”_ Sherlock sat up straighter at this one. This he could do! He didn’t quite see how this counted as _romantic_ – he was pretty sure kidnapping counted as a crime of some sorts, but according to this website, it was all fun and games. Sherlock scribbled plans for a kidnapping on his notepad, then called Angelo’s to make a reservation. Maybe he’d ask Mycroft for advice – kidnapping was really more his brother’s territory. 

_“Spend the entire day watching romantic movies.”_ Sherlock drew the line at this. He was pretty sure John hated these movies too, but his tolerance for pop culture was low enough to begin with. Romantic ones were utter drivel and implausible in their entirety. No, no, a thousand times no. 

_“Write “I love you” on the bathroom mirror with a piece of soap.”_ Good lord. Sherlock was starting to think he _was_ romantic, if _this_ is what people were doing. Still. I love you in soap. He got up, then did some mental calculations. No, soap would dissolve by the time John got home.

He _did_ still have some blood he had been testing, though. Blood wouldn’t run so quickly. He dipped a paintbrush in the blood and painted a heart on the wall. There. It sorta fit, too, with the yellow smiley face. Romantic _and_ interior decorating at once!

He scanned page after page of insipid love advice and sighed. “Walk her to her door?” John lived here, they walked to their door together. “Tell her you love her?” Did so daily. Multiple times. Roses, roses, more roses. 

_“Give him a gift you know he’d like”_. Hm. Sherlock pondered that. There were _plenty_ of things John would like. (Although, did people _really_ need to be told to give people they loved things they’d like? Honestly!). Sherlock closed all three laptops and shrugged off his dressing gown, shrugging into his Belstaff.

Stressful day, middle of allergy season, lots of people coming in with minor complaints… John would _definitely_ appreciate a delivered lunch (unlikely he’d have time to go get something). Chinese. Sherlock was in the mood for Chinese.

*** 

Lunch had gone well, and Sherlock snuck back to the clinic at five to ‘kidnap’ John. He yanked his scarf from around his neck and waited patiently for John to exit. John did, humming to himself, smiling. 

Sherlock stepped behind him, silently, and threw the scarf around his eyes.

He was _not_ expecting the elbow to the gut. He really should have been; he had seen John in action before. Stupid, _stupid_ , he chided himself. Determined to stick to the plan, he tugged the scarf tighter. 

John sunk into a crouch fast, faster than Sherlock could react, slipping out of the blindfold. Pivoting on the balls of his feet, John turned quickly, his hand reaching into his pocket, where Sherlock knew he kept his gun (Sherlock _hadn’t_ known he took it to the clinic with him, although given how often he called John mid-shift with a case, he shouldn’t really be surprised).

“John, it’s me!” Sherlock said, raising his hands.

“Sherlock?” John asked, standing up. “What the _hell_?”

Sherlock shifted his weight foot to foot. “Uh… surprise?”

“No. No, you are definitely explaining to me, you utter madman, why you thought it would be a good idea to _blindfold_ an army vet with PTSD _without warning_.”

Oh. Definitely a bad idea when laid out like that, Sherlock admitted.

“I… thought it would be romantic,” Sherlock offered. “Kidnapping you and taking you to dinner.”

John laughed. “Only _you_ would think kidnapping me for dinner is _romantic_. C’mere.” He tugged Sherlock down for a kiss. “I’ll still go to dinner with you, but no more kidnapping me, love. Anyway, your brother already does enough of that, I don’t need _both_ Holmes brothers kidnapping me.”

A thought struck him, and he stared at Sherlock. “Love, what’s gotten into you? You brought lunch, you sent flowers, you’re _kidnapping_ me for a ‘romantic dinner’…. You don’t _do_ romance.”

“You do,” Sherlock said softly. “I want to be romantic, for you.”

“Oh… _Sherlock_. I want you, as you are. Not anything else. My utterly silly man.” He threaded his arm through Sherlock’s. “Now. You said something about dinner?”

*** 

_“Sherlock?! Why is there a heart painted in blood on the wall?”_ Mrs. Hudson demanded later that night.

“Romance!” Sherlock and John shouted back.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these ideas come from the internet. Specifically, Godek. (Frequent Cracked readers will recognize him). I endorse none of these ideas. Especially not the kidnapping one. Please don't kidnap your loved ones as a romantic idea (especially not ex-army doctors with PTSD).


End file.
